


Playing the Part

by ArgentLives



Series: Across Every Universe (You are Home) [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Musicals, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry swallows his fear and his stage-fright to audition for Central High's spring musical with one goal in mind: to be cast as the love-interest of the character his long-time crush Iris West will no doubt be playing. He never expects that he might actually have a shot at that role in real life, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing the Part

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: ""I have a key to the theatre, and sometimes I go there when I need to think. Apparently so do you" ; I have some more ideas for this one so I'll probably continue it at some point :)

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be here even though this is his favorite place to be, to think, to–well, to brood. Not that he’s a particularly broody person, but today is a little different. Because he’s under very specific instructions from one very adamant Felicity Smoak _not_  to do any brooding. None. Nada. Not allowed. Instructions that also happen to be firmly backed up by his friends Cisco and Caitlin.

“Barry Allen,” Felicity had huffed, playing with the sound controls as he’d lounged in the swivel chair next to her, spinning around in anxious circles and watching her do her thing, after he’d asked her for about the seventeenth time if he’d done alright. Cisco had given her a thumbs up from the stage to let her know the tech was working properly, his trademark headset resting around his neck, and she’d nodded her thanks before rounding on Barry. “I already  _told_  you, and Cisco has already told you, and Caitlin has already told you, and if you ask _one more time_ I’m gonna bust your eardrums in here. You were amazing. You need to stop being so hard on yourself and have a little faith–I really think you have a shot at this.” 

That at least had gotten him to smile, eased the nervous shaking of his hands just a bit. “You really think so?” he’d ventured hopefully, almost daring to believe it, before yet another doubt had bubbled up in his chest. “Or are you all just saying that because you’re my friends and you’re, like, obligated to say that by virtue of the–the, I don’t know, code of friendship?”

Felicity had rolled her eyes “First of all, that’s not a thing. Second of all, yes, I really think so. We all do. And evidently so do the people in charge of casting, since you made callbacks tomorrow. So please, stop stressing so much about this.” She laid a comforting hand over his, trying and failing to stare him down. “Promise me you’re not going to spend all night brooding about it, okay? You were _fine_. You’re gonna be fine. And you’re gonna kill it tomorrow too. So! No brooding allowed.”

He’d let out a sigh and rubbed a hand down his face, staring down at his feet as he’d responded. “Yeah…yeah, I promise. Thanks.”

Just then Cisco had come barging in, Caitlin hovering close behind him, insisting on grabbing a bite from Big Belly Burger on their way home.

“Come on, I’m your ride back, anyway, so you really don’t have much of a choice.” Felicity had rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile as she’d exchanged a look with Caitlin. “I mean, I’m starving here, guys. It’s almost six already, can you believe it? The late nights are already starting, and auditions aren’t even done yet.”

“Tell me about it.” Felicity had nodded, hopping up from her seat and grabbing her jacket and backpack, but Barry had remained rooted to the spot. Just the mention of food made his stomach roll, with his nerves still through the roof, and he’d swallowed down the bile he felt rising in his throat.

“You guys go ahead without me. I’m just gonna…hang around for a bit. I can lock up.”

Felicity had narrowed her eyes at him. “Barry…”

“ _Felicity_ ,” he’d mimicked her tone of disapproval, dodging out the way as she’d attempted to step on his foot. “It’s fine, really. I can walk back to my house–it’s not far. The fresh air will be good for me. Clear my head and stuff.”

“Whatever, dude, you’re missing out,” Cisco had cut in, shaking his head, “just make sure you eat  _something_ tonight, okay? I’ve got my eye on you. Not literally, obviously, but…metaphorically…?”

Barry had laughed and given Cisco a mock salute before waving the three of them off. “I’ll be fine. Really–go.”

And they had, but not before Felicity had turned around to point her finger at him one last time.

“Remember what we talked about, Barry. No brooding. It’s not a good look on that cute face of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I promised, remember?” 

Then they’d finally left, and that had been that.

And yet here he is now, perched on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling off the side, alone with his thoughts in a completely empty theater, and most definitely brooding. 

What if he royally fucks up his callback tomorrow? What if he actually screwed up today and they’re just taking pity on him? What if he’s awful? What if this was just the biggest, dumbest idea he’s ever had and what if he’s not cut out for this in the first place? What if he actually does get the part but  _she_ hates him? What if–

His increasingly anxious train of thought is abruptly derailed at the sound of the heavy doors at the entrance to the theater clattering shut, and when he looks up to see who’s just entered, expecting it to maybe be Felicity or Cisco or Caitlin coming back to check on him, or maybe the janitor coming to kick him out, he nearly has a heart attack. Because the ‘she’ in question is walking down the aisle in between the rows of seats and making her way toward the stage where he’s sitting, surprise written all over her face, and looking directly at him. 

“Sorry–I didn’t think anyone else would be in here. Uh, what are you doing here so late?” The way she says it isn’t rude, just genuinely curious, and he wracks his brain for something clever to respond with. Which is really hard when he’s also focusing on breathing right.

“I could ask you the same question,” he says, feigning a calm he doesn’t feel in the slightest. Iris West is walking toward him. Looking at him. Talking to him. Acknowledging his existence.  _Is he dreaming?_ “But, I, ah…this is my thinking spot, I guess. I like being here when no one’s around.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” She turns something over in her fingers, the light from overhead gleaming off of it and catching his eye. It’s a key, he notices. Not surprising that she’d have one, really–it’s common knowledge that she’s the favorite of Central’s theater program, always snagging lead roles, and can pretty much get away with anything. And yet, from the stories he’s heard about her, that Felicity–who’s actually  _friends_ with her–has told him, and from what he’s noticed over all these years admiring her from afar, she’s somehow…not a diva. Well, that’s not quite true–she _is_ a diva, but, like, the nice kind. The really nice kind. It’s sort of impossible not to like her. “Same, actually. That’s what I came her to do.”

He fidgets a bit under her gaze as she comes to a stop before him, distracted by the view. “Oh. Um. Cool.”  _Smooth, Allen. Real smooth._

“So how’d you get in here after hours? I mean, everyone’s gone home.”

“I used to be in tech crew and stuff. You know–I did a lot of work behind the scenes, like, I was in charge of the lighting and all. So they gave me a key during the last show to access stuff when and I needed to and I–well, let’s just say I might have…forgotten…to give it back.”

“Oh,” Iris blinks at him in surprise and tilts her head, regarding him with curiosity. “So that’s where you’ve been hiding all this time. Behind the scenes.”

His eyebrows pull together in confusion, and he’s just about ask when she moves closer to the stage. He’s momentarily distracted by the sudden racing of his heart as she tucks her key into her back pocket and puts her hands on the smooth wood next to him, pushing herself up and clambering ungracefully onto the stage before finally managing to right herself, swinging her legs over the edge so that they’re nearly touching his. He swallows hard and licks his lips, fighting to keep his cool. But dear God, she’s  _so_  close.

“Wh–what do you mean, hiding?”

She shoves his shoulder, bumping into him playfully, as though they’re not technically strangers, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying something stupid or making a complete fool out of himself. Felicity had warned him that Iris was a very tactile person, super touchy and affectionate, but he hadn’t realized that also extended to people she’d only just met. It’s not her fault she doesn’t know exactly what it’s doing to him, of course. 

“I saw you at auditions today, dude. You were really good–I was wondering why I’d never seen you before.”

He ducks his head to hide his smile, because he can feel himself grinning like an idiot, the heat in his cheeks matching the warm-and-fuzzy feeling that’s settling in his chest, easing his nerves for just about the first time today. “Oh, uh–wow, thanks. That means a lot.” He very narrowly restrains himself from tacking on a _‘coming from you’_. She grins at him and holds up her hands. 

“Hey, I’m just stating the truth. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got the part, even though you’re new. I am curious though…why now? Why not last year, or the year before?”

“Well, I didn’t want to miss out, because most of my friends do tech crew, but…” 

He’s stalling, of course, attempting to come up with a believable excuse. Anything but the truth, really, because he’d rather get struck by lightning than admit that the real reason he’s trying out for this particular part is because this particular part is the love interest of the part that  _she’s_  trying out for, the part she’s been a shoe in for it since the day auditions were announced. He’s seen this play multiple times. Read the screenplays, watched his favorite scenes over and over again on youtube, the whole nine yards. Point being, he’d get to kiss her more than once. He’d get to spend time with her. Hold her hand, sing duets with her, and–wow. Yeah. Why indeed. 

“But I, ah, I just figured I’d try something new. And I like singing, so, that’s…that’s that.”

It’s not a complete lie, because he  _is_  trying something new–he’s never sung in front of a crowd before, save for his shampoo bottles and his bar-of-soap microphone. And he does enjoy it. The singing, that is, not necessarily the crowds. Acting, too. He’s just…always been too afraid. Always ends up second guessing himself. But this is his senior year, and he swore he’d turn things around. Swore it’d be the year he’d stop sitting on the sidelines, letting every opportunity pass him by. Swore it’d be the year he’d actually talk to his long-time–like, way back since 6th grade long-time–crush, the one and only Iris West. Which, hey, he’s already making progress there. Maybe things are looking up?

“Huh. That’s really cool. You know, switching things up like that. Finding out what you like. I mean, I’ve been at this for as long as I can remember and I’m still figuring it out. Sometimes I wonder if all this,” she waves her arms around, gesturing to the stage behind them and then to the empty theater before them, “is really my calling.”

“It is.” 

His answer is so blunt and so immediate, tumbling off of his tongue before he can stop it, that it’s not surprising that she raises an eyebrow at him in question. He hastens to explain, growing increasingly flustered as he trips over his words. “That is–I mean, not if you don’t want it to be, obviously–you’re just–you’re really good. Like super good. Amazing, really, and–okay, wow, I’m going to stop talking now…”

Iris laughs, short and sweet and bubbly, and he didn’t think it was possible for there to be a more beautiful sound than her singing but it looks like he’s found it. Honestly, it’s almost worth the embarrassment. Almost.

“Aww, thanks. Really, I’m flattered.”

She pats his knee and Barry feels a shiver run up his thigh, the skin underneath his jeans burning at her touch, like it’s itching for more. Her hand lingers there just a little bit longer than necessary, and she’s grinning at him like she knows something, a curious look in her eye, but before he can ask she pulls it away and claps her hands together, heaving a sigh.

“Well, you were here first, so I’ll leave you to it. Your thoughts and whatnot, I mean.”

He wants to tell her no, please, she really doesn’t have to leave. In fact, he really wants to tell her to stay. That he’s very much enjoying her company, and he really likes talking to her, and he really likes  _her_  and oh God he’s liked her for the longest time and now he’s actually sitting next to her and she’s almost touching him and she’s just about to walk away because she thinks he wants to be _alone_  rather than talking to her and how ridiculous is that and–there’s a lot he really wants to say. But he can’t get past the lump in his throat, the churning in his stomach, the nerves that are back full force. He’s not afraid to admit it–he’s scared. Terrified of saying the wrong thing. So instead he says nothing at all, paralyzed by his own cowardice, for long enough that it’s Iris who ends up filling the silence.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then? At callbacks? I think we might be reading a scene together.”

“Yeah,” he swallows, clearing his throat. It’s probably not just all the singing and belting he’s done today that have made his voice sound so small. “Yeah, of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

Iris smiles at him, and it’s even more beautiful than he could’ve ever imagined–and he’s imagined it  _a lot_ –up close like this. 

“Great! I’ll see you then,” she says as she hops off the stage. Barry doesn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that he’s staring, wide-eyed and unabashedly, as she walks away to the doors in the back. Which is why he nearly chokes when she spins around without warning and catches him at it. She smirks at him knowingly, watching with amusement as the color floods his cheeks. 

“For the record, I really do hope you get the part,” Iris calls out, giving him a wink as she walks backwards towards the door, confident as ever. “I totally wouldn’t mind having you as a love interest.”

 


End file.
